or Pontoise;
the self-same chair in "old oak," the same faded "poufs," plaster
columns and pasteboard rocks.

The people who are being _taken_ at this moment are two ladies of
quality, evidently mother and daughter, who are sitting together for a
cabinet-sized portrait, with accessories of Louis XV. time. A strange
group this, the first great ladies of this country I have seen so
near, with their long aristocratic faces, dull, lifeless, almost gray
by dint of rice-powder, and their mouths painted heart-shape in vivid
carmine. Withal an undeniable look of good breeding that strongly
impresses us, notwithstanding the intrinsic differences of races and
acquired notions.

They scanned Chrysantheme with an obvious look of scorn, although her
costume was as ladylike as their own. For my part, I could not take my
eyes off these two creatures; they captivated me like incomprehensible
things that one had never seen before. Their fragile bodies,
outlandishly graceful in posture, are lost in stiff materials and
redundant sashes, of which the ends droop like tired wings. They make
me think, I know not why, of great rare insects; the extraordinary
patterns on their garments have something of the dark motley of
night-moths. Above all, the mystery of their tiny slits of eyes,
drawn back and up so far that the tight-drawn lids can scarcely open;
the mystery of their expression, which seems to denote inner thoughts
of a silly, vague, complacent absurdity, a world of ideas absolutely
closed to ourselves. And I think as I gaze at them: "How far we are
from this Japanese people! how utterly dissimilar are our races!"

Then we have to let several English sailors pass before us, decked out
in their white drill clothes, fresh, fat and pink like little sugar
figures, who attitudinize in a sheepish manner round the shafts of the
columns.

At last it is our turn; Chrysantheme slowly settles herself in a very
affected style, turning in the points of her toes as much as possible,
according to the fashion.

And on the negative we are shown we look like a supremely ridiculous
little family drawn up in a line by a common photographer at a fair.

XLVI.

_September 13th_.

This evening Yves is off duty three hours earlier than myself; from
time to time this is the case, according to the arrangement of the
watches. On those occasions he lands the first, and goes up to wait
for me at Diou-djen-dji.

From the deck I can see him throu